


put his fangs to uses

by graiai



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Intercrural Sex, M/M, Non-Human Genitalia, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22516897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/graiai/pseuds/graiai
Summary: “I would have you take me to bed.”
Relationships: Alphinaud Leveilleur/Estinien Wyrmblood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 109
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 5





	put his fangs to uses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lovelit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelit/gifts).



Alphinaud had required several minutes to gather his courage—minutes Estinien did not fill, reticent as ever now they had exchanged their reliefs and admonishments—but when he had, he stated without further delay his practiced words: “If you are well, and—and if you were amenable, I would have you take me to bed.” 

Estinien was quiet so many seconds Alphinaud worried he may have slipped back into slumber. If so, Alphinaud would of course leave; when next they spoke he may attempt to discern if Estinien had heard him, and if he hadn’t, perhaps fate had showed its hand. If he _had_ , and neglected to answer, even the curt _not now_ he had been offered the eve of Estinien’s possession— 

“I’m in bed,” Estinien said, and when Alphinaud lifted his gaze from the floorboards Estinien’s were fixed on him, his brows pulled yet closer together. 

A flushed curled itself hot ‘round Alphinaud’s cheeks. “—Yes, obviously, but in—in some weeks?” 

“A sight sooner than that, if I’ve any luck left due me in this life,” Estinien scoffed. “Abed a single sun and already these walls begin to wear on me.” 

“I should alert the chirurgeons you’re liable to defenestrate yourself soon as your legs will hold you,” Alphinaud said with humor only slightly affected; he smiled true when Estinien laughed, and already his chest no longer trembled as it had the day previous. 

In such spirits it seemed inconceivable Estinien had denied him again—following his previous refusals they had kept to themselves ‘til the next morning’s breakfast—but Estinien by his nature was not one to obfuscate, and Alphinaud by his sought clarity. “You will, then?” 

“I’ll what? Stage a daring escape?” 

Alphinaud blinked. “You’ll—bed me, of course.” 

Estinien paused, and Alphinaud readied his arguments: that he has grown in maturity and wisdom if not ilms since last the topic had been broached, that even to start he had not been so dreadfully inexperienced as Estinien seemed to feel; that a little pain did not scare him when it offered the closeness he has coveted since well before losing Estinien to Nidhogg. _I am not a child,_ he prepared himself to say, _and I swear that should it become too much for me I will tell you so._

But none of these assertions proved necessary—Estinien shut his eyes, scoffing a quiet laugh as he mouthed something incomprehensible but most certainly unkind. Still shaking his head as if to refuse him, Estinien said: “I suppose I shall.” 

When finally he did, it was yet in Estinien’s recovery bed—his cell, as he put it, to Alphinaud’s consternation for more reasons than one. Atop him, Alphinaud could feel under him all the strength Estinien had recovered, an _I told you so_ on the tip of his tongue for the in-bed exercises Estinien had mocked when the chirurgeons first ordered them. Could Alphinaud not feel the evidence of his recovering stamina and good spirits as well, likely he’d have said it—but he had waited far too long for this moment to jeopardize it with a sharp tongue. 

Estinien’s cock was half-hard against Alphinaud’s inner thigh as he relieved Alphinaud of his layers, struggling with hook-and-loop clasps made for far smaller hands than his. “Doll clothes,” he complained of them, but swatted Alphinaud’s hands away when he reached behind him to provide assistance. Perched in Estinien’s lap, Alphinaud’s knees did not so much as reach the bedspread, clinging instead as if Estinien were a steed with his knees digging into his sides for purchase. Estinien was slender and fine-boned, but he was full-grown, the _expected_ adult height of an Elezen. His hands on Alphinaud nearly enveloped him, first peeling him out of his tunic and then running across the bare skin of Alphinaud’s chest, his ribs, his waist with reverent care. 

He didn’t bother with his own clothes—the simple, bland linen the chirurgeons had put him in once he had been healed to the best ability of conjury and washed clean of blood and dirt for perhaps the first time in years. Alphinaud reached out to undo the buttons himself, fumbling hands betraying his lack of experience undressing another person. 

Mercifully, Estinien refrained from commenting. 

He was fully hard by the time Alphinaud had him bare, little hands resting on the hard plane of his abdomen. Alphinaud found his visible desire gratifying, vanquishing any lingering concerns he might have capitulated to Alphinaud’s oft-repeated request only to shut him up. The both of them naked, Alphinaud in Estinien’s lap, there could be no question of mutual interest. 

But now, of course, he had to open his mouth. “That’s not getting inside of you,” Estinien said, in his usual manner. 

Loathe as Alphinaud was to admit it, he was right. Should he take it into his hands— _both_ hands, by necessity—and press it to himself it would span from the base of his body to his ribcage, and even that only accounted for the length: its girth was equally impressive, as wide or wider than Alphinaud’s own _calf_ , the sharp, animal taper of the head—dripping pre, and _oh_ but he hoped one day to taste it—aught except relieving when the whole length was ribbed with growths of thick, hardened flesh with the look and feel of scales. Garlemald would sooner extol the primals’ praises than would Alphinaud take even the tip of Estinien’s cock. 

“It needn’t go inside,” said Alphinaud with practiced insistence. “I could take you in hand, or past my lips,” and he would not admit that he may deserve the skepticism in Estinien’s raised brow from _that_ claim, “or, or have you between my thighs—oh, don’t look at me so.” 

“Like what?” Estinien’s fingers traced the knobs of Alphinaud’s spine, touch achingly gentle and hands emanating heat. In his hands, Alphinaud felt like some precious possession, needful of cherishing, and for once it left no sour taste in his mouth. 

“Like I am—an _amusement_ to you.” He was rather undercut by the catch in his breath, but for that Estinien should bear the blame, when it was by his hands and their endless wandering Alphinaud was affected thus. 

“You do amuse me,” Estinien agreed as again Alphinaud’s purpose was lost on him. “I begin to suspect there is nothing I might say you _haven’t_ an answer for.” 

A mocking _begin_ was yet on his tongue when Estinien’s hands stopped their journey to come about his waist, and fully encircle it—and no sooner had Alphinaud gasped at the sight than Estinien lifted him from his lap to be set on the bed beside him, Estinien turning to his side to hold him close, the warmth of his naked skin against Alphinaud’s back as strong a fixative as glue. Alphinaud laid his head upon Estinien’s outstretched arm. 

“Like this, then,” Estinien murmured, and Alphinaud nodded frantic. Estinien shifted behind him, brought his other hand near to Alphinaud’s head, and—and _spit_ in it, disgusting enough when he was seated across the fire and hocking saliva into his palm to smooth back his flyaways, when Alphinaud could only _see_ it and look upon him in abject horror and the resign which came part and parcel with poor taste in men. 

The _sound_ in his ear. “You’re revolting, I hope you kn—” he began, but the end of it was swallowed up by a ragged _oh_ as he felt the press of his cock between his thighs, closer to the knee than the hip. 

The slow, wet—with spit, but also pre, burning-hot—slide of his cock forced Alphinaud’s legs to part, before Estinien brought down the arm not cradling his head to take his lower thigh in hand, just above the knee, and pressed them back together, trapping his cock between. Alphinaud moaned, dripping even untouched, and nuzzled into the corded muscle of Estinien’s arm. 

“You wouldn’t be dissuaded from this,” Estinien said, too-soft lips brushing Alphinaud’s hair behind his ear, “even seeing what the wyrm made of me.” 

“Of course,” said Alphinaud. “Why would I act otherwise?” As if to prove his mettle, he reached down to take hold of what of Estinien’s cock jutted out from between his thighs, angry red and vicious with its scales. Alphinaud’s fingers could not wrap fully around even the head, slender against the rest of the length. 

At the first pump of his hand, Estinien groaned. “ _Hells_ , boy.” 

Alphinaud paused in his unskilled ministrations, twisting in Estinien’s grip to catch a glimpse of his face. Worrying his lower lip between his teeth, he murmured, “Am—is it not good?” 

“No!” burst Estinien, then made a noise far back in his throat, all frustration. “No—it’s good, don’t you dare go stopping now.” 

“Oh,” said Alphinaud, and obeyed, twisting his hand in its grip on Estinien’s cockhead. He melted into Estinien’s hold, and Estinien was there behind him, holding him, dragging his teeth over the shell of Alphinaud’s ear and murmuring into it vile, wonderful praise the likes of which Alphinaud had never dared imagine him capable, until at last Estinien tilted Alphinaud’s face up towards him with a soft-voiced, “Here,” and caught his lips in a kiss.


End file.
